


Right Now I Need A Miracle

by SparksOut



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: (against mutants ofc), Canon-Typical Racism, F/M, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Young Charles, Young Charles Xavier, it's always dubcon when telepaths are involved, tags updated as they become relevant!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:59:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6946594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparksOut/pseuds/SparksOut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is self indulgent as shit and I regret nothing</p>
<p>Telepaths have always been the strongest mutants; silent, physically identical to nonmutants, and subtle. The only way to stop one of them is to block them out, traditionally. A silly hat, or being a telepath yourself are typical examples. </p>
<p>When the war on mutants broke out, there was always a telepath working in the shadows. Nobody could fight them, because nobody could find them. They became a class of mutants unto themselves. The governments feared puppetry, an entire planet being run by an oligarchy of telepathic elites. The common man feared slavery, subjection, having their free will torn from them and their physical form reduced to organic machinery. </p>
<p>Jessine, better known as "Pharaoh," fears discovery. Possessed of one of the rare mutant powers that makes her resistive (not immune) to telepath's powers, she spends most of her time seducing them. With every new conquest, she learns more about these powerful mutants. With every new conquest, she gets closer to discovering who's illustrating the end of free will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Now I Need A Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> dear god, who art in heaven, please let me avoid mary sue-dom.  
> also, I'm just gonna write this. It's gonna be clunky and a bit exposition heavy but if I don't just get it out I'll never write it aaaaahhh

It's a nice bar, dark and quiet with a couple of regulars and a great deal of college students. The air is warm, mostly beer-scented but with an undertow of expensive vodka that's easy to miss. But the better part, my dears, is the complex chemical lattice that sits on the place like a spider's web. Adrenaline, oxytocin, dopamine, you name it. Hormones and pheromones dripped from the walls like wax and I couldn't help but breathe deeply. My oh my it's good to be back, I smiled to myself.  
  
I take more steps inside, noticing the way the web pulls around me, as excitement and arousal spark as I walk by. Some fear, some jealousy, some indignation. Chemical compounds released by the body to control our own minds, compounds that telepaths manipulate on only the highest levels. Because where a telepath could see love, I would see lust, possessiveness, fear, and tranquility. I'm absolutely no mind reader, but that doesn't stop me from hunting them. I'm Jessine, self titled "Pharaoh" and I'm an addict.  
  
I sat down at the bar, ordering a scotch as I surveyed the room. Mind readers, you see, have a very distinct chemical pattern. While most people will echo the emotions of the person they talk to, telepaths have the habit of randomly mimicking the emotions of people around the room. It's a side effect of being able to hear what everyone is thinking; you're bound to mentally "comment" on those thoughts occasionally. I watched one young lady, who was sitting with her friend but obviously not paying much attention to her. Her eyes, like mine, watched strangers. Occasionally, she'd start mimicking a man's emotions, staring at him and flipping her hair. That wouldn't be so odd, save for his arousal spiked every time he looked at her. Spiked as in, playboy bunny in lingerie spiked. Not, pretty college girl in skinny jeans spiked.  
  
The man also kept glancing at the door, fiddling with his pockets. Probably a gun of some sort, I couldn't tell. I don't have super-smell, not like that. I can't "drug dog" people about what they're carrying, though I would've been shot way fewer times if I could. Pretty College Girl stood, and walked over to door glancer. She whispered a few words in his ear, and I winced at how strong his reaction was. I glanced back to the girl, to catch the chemical signature of what I could only describe as synthetic pheromones; Pretty College Girl was a succubus, not a telepath. What a shame, I could've sworn I noticed a telepath when I'd first walked in. Succubi, while powerful influences, can't work on more than one person at a time. And they can't take your free will. They're annoying little suckers, but hardly something to fear. Hardly something that was contributing to the power-shift up high.  
  
I finished my scotch, and turned my eyes to my next possible target. A young man, just as pretty as little College Girl, sitting with a friend of his. He'd reacted to several emotional disrupts at nearby tables, though he was far more at ease than most telepaths I'd found. This one I'd get to talk to. I moved my eyes a couple feet away from him, keeping him in my periphery but pretending to stare out the window. Each time his eyes landed on me, I pressed against his dopamine just a little more. Positive reinforcement, woof. Eventually, he said something to his blonde friend and stood to walk over to me.  
  
"Did you know that blue eyes are caused by a single mutation on the HERC2 gene?" he said, sitting next to me. I kept my hormones carefully controlled, flooding the front of my mind with all of my current thoughts and keeping my mutant status shoved deep down in my mind.  
  
"I thought they were due to the OCA2 gene." I said, turning to face him. Surprise registered on his face, and a small amount of excitement ran through him. So he wasn't used to such a response, good. That was when I felt him in my mind, like a hand on my shoulder. My heart stuttered a little bit and I fought to keep my adrenaline under control. He was much, much kinder than any telepath I'd ever felt before; their presence in my mind always has a signature mark that is an echo of their personality. The last telepath I'd dealt with had felt like needles in my head.  
  
But not this one, he felt soft and comfortable near me. And I'll be damned if I've found yet another succubus; not all of them deal in sex. Love feeds them just as well; and a good deal of them lived off breaking hearts. All those thoughts, however, were shoved deep in my mind. At the risk of mindless exposition, there are four levels to the human mind. Level one is your current thoughts and emotions. Level two is your long term feelings on the people around you. Level three is everything you hide. Level four is your memories. To be considered a telepath, you had to be able to read level one. Most people can do that subconsciously. The most powerful telepaths can alter the fourth level.  
  
"Ahh, no you see that study was wrong. The OCA2 gene is near the genes that cause the mutation, but only accounts for two thirds of the structure of blue eyes. It's the HERC2 gene that explains all three." I felt him settle against my mind, not pressing for memories but carefully monitoring my emotional responses to him. How quaint. But as long as I kept my control like a fist around my hormones, he'd never figure out that I'm a mutant. Now, he was reading level one; had it as almost a direct feed into his head. A natural then, years with his power. But my status as a mutant and my true motivation were shoved down on level 3, somewhere I'd make very sure he never reached. But now it was my turn to have some fun with him.  
  
"Does telling a girl her science is wrong usually work for you?" I questioned, smiling at him before glancing along the bottles behind the bar. I tiny tweak to his dopamine when he looked back to me, making him enjoy my presence even more.  
  
"You'd be surprised, usually depends on whether or not they posses a FLRT2 gene." He said, scanning my face. He'd noticed my tweaking; curious. Usually take a few more occurrences before the telepaths notice something wrong with their own minds. I felt him pressing a little heavier on my mind, trying to figure out what I was doing. He knew I wasn't a mind reader; they have the chatter of everyone else around them on their level one, typically. "Do you drink?" He asked. "Drink" triggered a thought on level two, and he had my favourite drink. Clever bastard.  
  
"Only the expensive stuff, lovely." I answered with a smirk. "And you've got to know I know there's no such thing as a FLRT2 gene." I nudged his adrenaline up a tiny bit, keeping my eyes on his hands. No shaking, despite the marginal increase. We'd see how long that lasts.  
  
He turned back to the bartender and I eased off his hormones, returning them to normal. He glanced back at me, and the hand against my mind tightened. A bit of anxiety pooled into my heart, and I let it. What if he caught me? What if he figured out I wasn't actually just some flirty co-ed looking for a night of fun?  
  
The milisecond his focus was on the bartender, I dumped the anxiety hormones from my system. That was a nasty trick, but a clever one. "I never got your name." I said, looking him in the eyes.  
  
"Charles, and yourself?" He said, passing a scotch over to me and keeping the Bitter for himself.  
  
"Jessine. How'd you know?" I said, gesturing to the drink. I heightened his arousal just the tiniest bit, watching for any change on his presence in my mind.  
  
"Lucky guess. What got you into genetics?" He asked, watching me carefully. His hand on my mind didn't shift in the slightest; he was one of those mutants. Well, if it makes him better in bed, who am I to complain...  
  
"Build-A-Beast Genetics, essentially. Creating new life on the same template mother nature gave us." I broke eye contact, taking a sip of my drink. I let his arousal drop back to natural levels, but this time heightened his adrenaline again. We'll see if I can make him jumpy.  
  
"That's a brazen course. What kind of creatures?" He asked, pushing my hair off my shoulder. Well, initiating physical contact, how courageous. Although, I suppose it's not that difficult considering the attraction was one of the only things he could read off my mind.  
  
I laughed, turning to face him more fully. "Depends who's asking. If it's my professors, then bacteria that can break down plastic. If it's my friends, then rainbow colored dogs." I amped the adrenaline up just a little more.  
  
"And if it's me?" he asked, smiling at me. But there was something off in his eyes; I wasn't being as subtle as I needed to be. Part of me wanted him to find out, to know I was toying with him. the realization that a powerful telepath can't do anything to stop me is always a heady drug, not gonna lie. But it was far, far too early in the night for such a show.  
  
He got heavier in my mind, the hand on my shoulder starting to dig in. He didn't like that he couldn't figure out what I was doing, didn't like it at all. But the edge of attraction never wore off, not in the slightest. So he likes a challenge, then. What a perfect night.  
  
"And if it's you... well honestly I think chimeras would be fantastic. Homebred mutants the size of cars, efficient terribly beautiful. And to be among them, among such gorgeous creatures would simply be unparalleled." I said, staring past him at a distant future. I filled him with just a bit of my hope, my optimism.  
  
He laughed, awed along with me and not just because of my manipulation. "Yes, well historically mutants are indeed terribly beautiful. Like you sitting before me." That was NOT SMOOTh. Oh my god. Why, Charles, why. But he was trying to trigger the rise of a memory connected to my mutation to rise to the second level of my mind, but no cigar. All he got were my own thoughts about my eyes.  
  
I giggled. "I mean well I could say the same about you, Charles." I said, humourously. The slightest edge of panic, probably caused by my influence on his adrenaline, caught to his mind. But he quickly dispersed it, and I let the rest of the adrenaline fade along with it.  
  
"If you think that much of me, I've got a room not far from here. I think we could talk more about these chimeras of yours there, don't you think? A bit loud in here." Like he even needed to ask; no way he ever would if he was unsure. I doubted he'd ever got shot down in his life.  
  
"You've got a convincing point there, Charles. Lead the way." I said, smiling. I edged his dopamine, already high from my saying yes, up just a little higher. He gave me another weird look and his presence in my mind shifted in, trying to press down to level three. My oh my, three bases without even a kiss. He was gonna have to work a bit harder than that, it's not like he was the first telepath I'd seduced.  
  
I released just a few headache-causing hormones into my system, and rubbed at my temples. Charles immediately receded in my mind, worried that he'd pushed too far. I dispersed the hormones, and smiled at Charles. He gave me a knowing smile, resting his hand on the small of my back as he guided me out the door.  
  
The speed with which a taxi stopped for us was borderline supernatural, even considering Charles' mutation. He might find out about my mutation tonight, but I'd be damned sure I got the information I needed out of him first. I'd try my best not to hurt him though, he seems like a nice guy.  
  
I ran my eyes over him as he got in the tax next to me, and licked my lips. I sometimes wonder at the phenomena of all telepaths are ridiculously attractive. I'm guessing it's a subtle, almost glamour-like effect, created in a bubble around them. I know for sure it's that for a couple, as they appear rather lackluster when seen on film. Charles, however, I doubted was ever lackluster. Blue eyes, dark hair, perfect lips, and a telepath to match. He's almost my perfect man, to be honest.  
  
The taxi sped away as Charles asked, "What experiments have you conducted?"


End file.
